


Calm Waters

by DynamicThesaurus



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Ryoma goes to therapy, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:54:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DynamicThesaurus/pseuds/DynamicThesaurus
Summary: 'Water drips from a lone, rusted tap into a shallow bowl.Ryoma measures out the days with a teaspoon.'A short, introspective character study.
Kudos: 13





	Calm Waters

Water drips from a lone, rusted tap into a shallow bowl.

Ryoma measures out the days with a teaspoon.

If this water is his life, he takes no more than what is given. Waits impatiently for the day that the tap will stop dripping, that he will scrape the bottom of an empty bowl and know, finally, that there is no more in this world to stop him.

So he waits.

Slowly, unenthusiastically, watching each drop fall and telling himself—just one more. Just one more. You can survive just this little bit longer.

He finds excuses. The bin needs to go out tomorrow, and even if his back aches to pull the heavy thing nobody else bothers putting the liner in afterwards. He should at least say goodbye to the street cat that sometimes wanders up to beg for food. He should give Shuichi back the pen he had borrowed.

Slowly, without even realising it, the gaps between excuses lengthen. The tap drips faster.

He promised Gonta he would go bug spotting with him on Saturday, so he should wait until then.

His therapist gave him those exercises to finish, and he’s only a week away from the last one.

He still has to finish that book that’s been sitting on the cabinet.

Slowly, he begins to forget what he was putting off.

Not forever. Some days the tap drips slowly, and his throat becomes parched and arms sore from the waiting. But those days are fewer now. Outnumbered by the days in which water pours like a steady stream, not showing sign of stopping.

Before he realises it, the teaspoon has become a saucer, a ladle. Then he’s tossing it aside, scooping handfuls of water out with his hands and drinking it down greedily. He’d never noticed how parched he was before. The water pours between his fingers, overflows from the bowl and floods the ground around him, until he is floating in it, buoyant, hydrated, and for the first time-

For the first time he realises, a shocked laugh tearing its way through unused vocal cords, that he no longer waits for the day the tap will run dry. He no longer wants to shut it off himself.

He wants to live, more than he has wanted anything in a long time, and the realisation shoves the air from his lungs and sends his mind spinning.

He floats on cool, crystalline blue, lost in the feeling, and, for the first time…

He is happy.


End file.
